Witches, Hex Bags, And Angels
by KittyBits
Summary: They ganked the witches and went home back to shower and rest. Then suddenly Sam is waken by Dean acting very odd and what can a man really do when pressed against the wall by his naked, bewitched brother? Call the angel brigade is what.


**Diclaimer: Supernatural isn't mine, though I solemnly believe that Dean will find a way to cure Cas' unfortunate condition without killing him so they can have wild monkey sex and teach the population of the world that homosexuals are the bee's knees.**

**Author's note: This is not the first SPN fic I've written, but it's the first I've published, since this was a shorty and the others aren't done. It's short and it's odd!smut (which is genre I personally am very good at. Normal smut, not so much). Enjoy! **

**Oh, and I'm my own beta on this one so any mistake are my own (and please let me know so I can correct them)!**

"I hate witches," Dean declared and dropped down to his bed for a moment not giving a fuck about getting blood or mud on the blanket. Sam nodded and put the bag with their soiled weapons down on the miniature dining table in the matching 'kitchen' with a loud thud.

"I'm going to shower," the tall man said and sat down, rubbing his face tiredly. "I just... need to take off my boots." The sound of a door closing made him look over to Dean's empty bed with a big smear of blood at the end and Sam sighed.

Typical.

He fixed the smirking and clean Dean with a bitchy glare when he exited the bathroom and once again when he himself was done and came out to find his big brother sleeping in the not bloody bed.

That's Dean for you, he thought with a sigh as he went over to the dirty bed and for a moment contemplated calling Cas to mojo the blood away. He was just so tired. Actually, when he thought about, he was just tired enough to be able to sleep in a bloody bed. He laughed darkly at his bad joke and shook his head and then he crept under the blood smeared blanket trying not to think about it too much as sleep knocked him on the back of the head and left him entirely dead to the world.

For about an hour and a half, when he blinked sleepily at the feeling of a strange calloused hand slowly moving under his t-shirt to his abdomen, where fingers splayed out as if they were trying to gain contact with as much skin as possible.

"Yesssss," as voice behind him whispered and it was somehow familiar even with Sam not being completely awake and aware. Something big and warm moved closer to his back and Sam smiled slightly at the radiated body heat as he realized he was cold. He grabbed blindly after the blanket that must have crawled down sometime during the night and frowned when he couldn't find it. The warmth behind him came even closer and pressed against him and suddenly Sam was completely and utterly awake. There was something pressed against his thigh. Something hard and long and even if Sam usually wasn't on the receiving end of the sensation he knew perfectly well just _what_ was pressed against him.

An erection.

For a moment Sam was unable to move, every thought having disappeared. Then panic hit him and he rolled over trying to get some distance between him and the _erection_. Unfortunately he hadn't taken account on just how close he was to the edge of the bed and with a yelp he dropped to the cold floor wondering just why God had decided to make this his life.

Lousy bastard.

And no, he didn't care about being blasphemous – he just wanted to sleep in peace.

"Sam?" He looked up and to his utter horror recognized the face peering down at him, pupils blown and hair that would probably have looked tussled if it wasn't so short.

"DEAN?" Sam rolled to his back and pushed up to a sitting position, gaping at his older brother on the bed.

His naked older brother.

And his erection.

"What the hell?"

"I'm sorry, Sam," Dean said with a pained look in his eyes as he crawled off the bed and closer to Sam, his hand reaching up and caressing his face. "I don't know what's going on, I just woke up and needed to – SKIN!" Sam was paralyzed as he watched his older brother drop and press his cheek against the spot where Sam's shirt had climbed up and exposed a sliver of naked skin. It was a very disturbing situation.

"Dean? Do you mind?" he asked and hoped by God that he would stop rubbing his stomach. The movement was stirring a deeply buried need for intimacy that he hadn't had time to ease for a very long time.

"Yes, I mind, damn it," Dean growled and moved his hand up to push the shirt further up, "but I can't help it. I just have to have more contact! I need to feel more-"

"More skin, yes I get that," Sam interrupted and started crawling backwards awkwardly. "But this is making me very uncomfortable. Couldn't you just go to a bar or something?"

"Need it nooooow," Dean growled in reply and Sam tried to deny just how nice it was that someone was touching him. It was suddenly very easy when Dean crawled closer and his engorged penis came in contact with Sam's shin. With another yelp, Sam stood and jumped a step back staring at his brother with horror.

"DEAN!"

"I'm sorry," Dean said and stood. His face pleaded his brother to understand when he walked closer and pressed his body against Sam's. Sam, who unfortunately had positioned himself against the wall. "I don't want to," he said as he started pushing up Sam's t-shirt while Sam tried to keep it down. "I _need _to!"

"Listen, Dean. I'm very sorry but I... This is _wrong_! I'm your brother – why are you even doing this?" His hands clenched tightly around the hem of his shirt but he knew it was a losing battle when Dean used one hand to keep Sam's at chest level and the other to roam the expanse of exposed skin.

"I don't know! I told you already! I just woke up and felt this way!"

"I know, I know... Do you think that it could be – ah! Stop that Dean!" Sam's head connected with the wall with a painful thump when Dean rubbed his nipple and pleasure soared through his body.

"I can't!"

"Do you think it could be the witches? They knew we were here after all." Sam tried going over different phenomenons that could cause Dean's behavior and he dearly wished he wasn't this far away from his phone so he could call Bobby and ask for his help. And perhaps how soon he could be there with a gun.

"It would make sense, I guess," Dean mumbled against Sam's neck and hot air blew over his collarbone, making a shiver run down the tall man's spine.

"Then there's probably a hex bag in here somewhere," Sam said and let go of his shirt so he could push Dean off of him and start looking for the bag, only Dean had other plans and used the opening to pull Sam's shirt of and start licking his jaw. It was an odd mixture of nice and all too disturbing and Sam couldn't fit a complete thought anywhere in his mind. "You need to let me go, Dean."

"I need to touch skin," Dean moaned in reply and Sam's hands were suddenly held firmly above his head while torso, legs and _penis_ were pressed against the body.

"I – let go Dean! You – you can't do this, this is wrong! This is – OH! Oh, no! Nononono! No, help. HELP! Somebody HELP!" Sam's thoughts were going fuzzy and somehow Dean knew just where to touch him with the hand not pinning Sam to the wall. "HELP! I need help in here! I need some – CAS! Castiel I need you! Help, Cas, you bastard! CASTIEL! Come down here NOW! CAS!"

"Sam?" a deep, hoarse voice said behind Dean, whose head left where it was sucking on Sam's nipple to shoot around and fix the angel.

"Cas?" he said, apparently all thoughts of Sam abandoned as he stalked over to Castiel and pushed him down on a chair next to the TV.

"Dean?" the confused angel asked as the man sat on his lap started to unbutton his shirt. "Dean what's going on?"

"I just need to," Dean said silently, his eyes flashed to Cas' face before he leaned in and pressed his lips to the pulse point on his neck. His hands were still working furiously on the shirt and Cas caught Sam's deer in headlights eyes over Dean's shoulder.

"Sam, what is going on? Why is Dean acting like this?"

Sam was forced from his stupor and suddenly his mind was flashing with thoughts.

"We don't know," he admitted and took a breath before jumping over his bed and to Dean's where he started pulling off the bedding. "We think it might have something to do with the witch coven we took care of yesterday."

"So you're looking for the hex bag?" Cas asked levelly and Sam couldn't help but admire his coolness. Then again, he was an angel of the Lord, and they were supposedly good at withstanding temptation. And Sam was just very happy he wasn't the one getting his shirt pulled out of his pants while his brother were sucking on an earlobe as if his life depended on it. He flung the bedding behind him and pulled the mattress off hoping to find the damn hex bag soon.

"Caaaaaaaas," moaned behind him made his search speed up even more, while a small voice in the back of his head wondered how there could be so many syllables in the angel's name.

The hex bag wasn't in the bed he had to conclude a moment later. He looked over his shoulder where Cas had placed a supporting hand on Dean's hip as he had started making small gyrating movements on his lap. Sam could imagine the way erection would press against Cas' stomach with each small movement, so he turned away feeling very embarrassed for all three of them and pulled the door to the bed stand open so forcefully it flew off its hinges.

Nothing there either. Except for the copy of tie Bible that somehow managed to lie and look at him disapprovingly, which totally wasn't fair as it was Dean who was acting like a dog in heat and him who was trying to make it stop.

"Bathroom," Cas rasped behind him, and he did _not_ see Dean's hand sneak down Cas' pants when he ran past them. Sam searched everywhere. He went through the cabinet, looked in the shower, behind the toilet, and he was just about to start looking down the drain when a thought occurred to him and he returned to the toilet, pulled the lid of the cistern and heaved a relieved sigh at the sight of the hex bag floating in a plastic bag filled with air.

"Found it!" he yelled and tore the plastic bag to get the small dry bag out. He didn't stop to wonder why Cas didn't reply and stormed back to the bed room where he came to a dead halt at the sight of Dean and Cas locked in a rather passionate kiss, Dean's hand still stuffed down Cas' pants moving rhythmically up and down in a movement Sam would never admit to have seen. He was at the duffel bag in a heartbeat and pulled a lighter from the side pocket, his hands trembling so much it was almost impossible to turn it on. Finally, it did and he watched as the bag burned with a bright blue flame.

He turned around to tell Dean and Castiel that he had solved their problem but paled when he saw that the two wasn't on the chair anymore but rather on Sam's bed, Cas on top, rubbing his half undressed crotch against Dean's completely naked one.

"Dean? Cas? Uhm, guys?"

Sam was answered by a series of muffled sighs and moans as his inquiry went unnoticed and the others kept kissing and rubbing and running their hands all over the other's body.

He looked away, blushing and walked sideways to the wall where his shirt was lying very careful not to get even a glimpse of the eight limbed creature on the bed.

"I'm just gonna – erm," he said and cleared his voice awkwardly when he grabbed his wallet on the way to the door where he paused briefly to pull on the shirt and a pair of pants that was draped over the back of a chair. The pants were too short and too big around the waist and Sam really didn't care and slammed the door when he was finally outside.

Those two were going to have to solve that problem on their own now.

He needed to find some place that sold brain bleach.


End file.
